


Ashes to Ashes (RP On Hold Since 2018)

by AfinaArchives



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Afina Drabbles, Gen, To be continued maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22820413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfinaArchives/pseuds/AfinaArchives
Relationships: None
Collections: Afina Drabbles





	Ashes to Ashes (RP On Hold Since 2018)

For years the Magistrix Voidchaser had walked the streets of Silvermoon in an inconsolable melancholy, tired eyes overwhelming most who dared to attempt small talk with her general apathy and bitter spite towards the world. What reason was there to talk, when all was lost and you were soon to die? She had thought none, devoting herself instead to avenging a strip of land which passed throughout the Thalassian countryside from North to South. That broiling turbulence in her gut came to a froth each time she looked upon the Dead Scar, for both what it was and what it represented. It was despicable, even moreso than she.

There could be nothing as horrible in this world.

The Undead had come into Elven lands, one goal in mind set to take, and only destruction left in their wake. Portals down, Ley Line magic thrown off in response to the loss of the Sunwell’s stabilization, Afina had only been able to return to her fallen country once the cinders had cooled. The bodies of the fallen mangled and burned, the carnage able to be tasted in the air.

She wretched when she saw it.

It was a genocide. A complete and utter destruction of life, without honor, heed, or care for those who had been laid to waste. Men, women, and children were butcher in their homes. Neither the old or the young were spared. Be they of the army or a… Plain civilian they had been slaughtered! Curling in on herself at the sheer thought of being all that remained, the Magistrix wept for her people until despair claimed her.

And then, came another.

Once more a killing of elves by the undead, the mighty tree of Teldrassil enveloped by flame as the Children of the Stars cried out for aid. While aid they had received; the might of the Dragonborne, Dalaran mages, Argent Crusaders, and well meaning bystanders could not stand up against the full weight of Sylvanas’ Horde.

The tasks taken up by those brave heroes left scars in more ways than physical; there was no way to save all the Kaldorei. Too many were left in that tree, trapped by fallen timber and stone. Unable to continue on they had been devoured by the inferno. It was far too many, and in speaking with a friend, Afina knew she was not alone with this thought in the Horde.

She took her fist and punched her own gut at the notion. For what good were thoughts and wishes when it came to such loss and all out warfare? Pretty words did not cut it in pretty terrible times.

It had been Corta who told her of the burning, for Afina had been too busy helping catalogue books of all things than to take notice of her communicator. The orc’s eyes were heavy with tears as she cried at the Tavern Crawl, and horrified by the actions of the Horde she drank away her sorrows that night.

It had been Caelinda who offered her an out, the wry merchant standing smug beside a fountain in Zulduzar as a plan came into being.

Picking up her pen, Afina thought of a will. What would happen just in case of the worst, what would occur. The flames of war had seen her mother’s staff taken from her, its crystalline form empowered by generations of Voidchaser Lords and Ladies possibly lost forever… Try as she might, Afina shook her head at the thought, that she had lost something so precious. Moving on, her gold was safe, linked to the magical imprint of her and her sister within a hidden vault… Her home? That would most definitely be repossessed by the state if she ever were to fall in good repute or poor repute. It was in the Square of all places and she knew a few other Magisters has their eyes on it.

Erik would be safe. He had many who loved him, many who enjoyed his cuddles.

Shaking her head, Afina slapped her face. “Not now,” she muttered, “not ever. I refuse to go down.”

Dipping her pen in ink, she dared to do what she had put off for half a year. A name similar to her own, one that had pulled her from the darkness before.

“To My Dear Sister Amet,”

To be continued…


End file.
